


my, my, mine

by sweetiejelly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Porn Video, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You may hunt small, tiny rabbits, yes, but so do the French!"</i>
</p><p>Or, Stiles convinces Derek to film werewolf-positive porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my, my, mine

**Author's Note:**

> The first sentence is inspired by this prompt here: <https://www.pinterest.com/pin/405957353891400076/>.
> 
> I wanted to challenge myself to write for these two last year, but didn't manage to finish this fic until today. Didn't think I'd start with um, just porn basically?, but here you go.

"For you are crunchy and good with ketchup - that's the kind of impression we _don't_ want to leave." 

Derek feels like laughing at his boyfriend but manages to school his features. 

Somewhat anyway. 

"Don't laugh! This isn't funny! Did you know the other day Scott got flamed at Trader Joe's? These a-holes slipped a note under his wipers that said 'get out; your kind not welcome'! Scottie, dude! We're talking perfectly nice werewolf boys like Scott, not even - er -" Stiles falters in his rant. 

"Not even grumpy old werewolves like me," Derek finishes for him. 

"No!" Stiles licks his lips. "I mean, kinda?" He shrugs one shoulder. "But like, that's the point, Derek! I know you're so much more than your exterior, which is a _very_ nice exterior, don't get me wrong. But y'know, you're a _dork_ in the best way. Like, I love that you love to read. You're so knowledgeable and open minded, and do you know how _sexy_ reading is?" 

"Stiles, no one is going to watch a video of me reading." 

"If you're shirtless and wearing glasses, I would." Stiles mumbles under his breath but of course Derek hears him as Stiles _knew_ he would. 

"Stiles." 

"Okay, fine. Masturbation's out. Just _saying_. It's an option. Or we can insert me." Stiles looks up at him with sweet honey eyes and Derek grits his teeth. 

Honestly, he's survived _so_ much but this beautiful, mouthy boy just might be his undoing. " _Stiles_." 

"It's for a good cause! You want to turn the tide on public opinions of werewolves, don't you?" Stiles steps closer. "If people can see how loving you are \- like _I_ can see it," Stiles wraps his hands around Derek's biceps, warm and firm and smelling like Doritos and licorice and somehow the forest. "Like I personally _experience_ it on a daily basis." 

Derek closes the distance between them (a foregone conclusion). It's easy to do when Stiles is so close. Stiles feels like heartbeats and gasps between his lips, like he's still surprised, still so turned on by Derek just _kissing_ him after a year of dating. 

It's more of a rush than Derek can say. He keeps waiting for the fresh flush of want and need to recede, but so far - nothing. 

He hauls Stiles closer with a palm against Stiles' lower back and one cradling the back of Stiles' head, to angle them better, deeper, wetter. 

"Wait!" Stiles breaks off on a moan. "Stop distracting me! You're very distracting, ugh. So, sex tape!" 

Derek feels the blush all the way to his ears. Honestly half the things that come out of Stiles' mouth! 

"I mean - sex video!" 

Derek raises an eyebrow because that's better how? 

"Just - let them see the _truth_ , see _you,_ see _us_ as we really are. You may hunt small, tiny rabbits, yes, but so do the French!" At Derek's raised eyebrow, Stiles rushes on. "My point is, you're a lover, too. A werewolf partner is not detrimental to humanity _at all_. Just the opposite in fact. I want them to see you as _I_ see you, Derek, as a guy I uh, love." 

Derek takes in the steady beats of Stiles' heart - all sincerity - and breathes out. "No." 

Stiles turns sharply, hiding his face, his whole aura outlined in hurt, and Derek turns him right back. "No, I won't do it for any other reason but that." 

Stiles' face lights up and Derek just knows a victory pump (all arms and flash of teeth like a zing to all of Derek's senses) is coming. He's not disappointed. 

~~ 

"I have to get naked on camera." 

Derek stares at Stiles. _Honestly_. He knows Stiles is really smart. Not as smart as Lydia or anything but still up there. But sometimes… "You're just now realizing this?" 

Stiles stops tapping his hands together by the fingertips, blinks at him, and then swivels to stare at the tripod at the foot of their bed. "No. I- I knew that. Just - _I_ have to get _naked_ on _camera_." He gestures, splaying his fingers like he's about to play air piano. Or surrender. 

Derek walks over and wraps his arms around Stiles, snug. "We don't have to do this," he hooks his chin over Stiles' shoulder and says against Stiles' ear, one of his favorite places to be. 

Stiles sighs, relaxing against him, and tips his head back, baring his neck (on reflex, Derek's pretty sure). So Derek kisses the proffered cheek and lower along the jawline, zig-zagging from freckle to freckle. 

"That looks great, guys," a petite woman says in the most soothing English accent. Derek thinks she said her name was Annabelle, the owner of the positive werewolf porn site and their videographer today. 

"Let's just turn on the camera, shall we?" She reaches over and fiddles with the equipment. "I'll stay out of the way much as possible, as we've discussed. You'll hardly notice me. Please _don't_ notice me. That's the whole point. You want the viewers to feel like they're getting a little glimpse of your intimate life." 

"A little more than a glimpse," Stiles mumbles. 

Derek brushes a hand along Stiles' arm. "Or _none_ , Stiles. Whatever you decide." 

Stiles looks to Annabelle, whose face has disappeared behind the camera. "Can we," he gestures between him and Derek, "can we just make out?" 

Annabelle gives them a thumbs-up. "I'm not here, guys. Snog to your heart's content." 

Stiles nods and turns to face Derek, angling away from the camera. The smile he offers Derek is almost shy. It makes Derek's blood sing - _my, my, mine_. He loves this boy. God help him but he does. 

He looks into Stiles' eyes and it's easy to hold Stiles' face in his palms. It's easy to drop a kiss to Stiles' cheek. It's easy to lick him there, too, just to make him laugh. 

"Ugh, you're such a puppy!" Stiles makes a wiping motion over his face (without actually wiping anything off). 

Derek has no choice then but to nip him, lightly, on his neck because he's _not_ a puppy, and also, Stiles has a ridiculously sensitive neck. 

Stiles' laugh tapers off into a sharp intake of breath. 

Better. 

Derek wraps his lips around the same spot high on Stiles' neck, right under Stiles' jaw, and sucks hard enough to make Stiles' breath go rickety. It's his favorite thing - drawing a reaction out of Stiles. It's always been his favorite thing, long before they were on a kissing basis. 

Derek remembers the first time he backed Stiles up against his bedroom door, how Stiles' eyes dropped to his lips, how his own dropped to Stiles', which was open and obscenely red, how he could hardly hear the pounding of Stiles' pulse over his own. 

He backs Stiles up against their bedroom door now, cocking his hips out to crowd Stiles against wood. This kiss when it lands on Stiles' kiss is harder, full of _I-want_ and _I-need_. Stiles gives him no reprieve, hooks a leg around Derek like he's trying to get him closer, like that's _possible_. 

Derek lets him try. In fact, Derek helps by sliding his hands under Stiles' ass to boost him up. Stiles groans against his mouth, sending vibrations along his skin, all sin. Derek urges him on, kneading the firm muscles, testing their bounce. 

Once Stiles powers on, the power he has over Derek is unspeakable. _Unspeakable_. Derek groans, can't help it, when Stiles start grinding against him, impatient and almost acrobatic for his usual level of body-limbs coordination. 

Derek's not about to complain. 

Not when Stiles pulls at his Henley and help Derek out of it. Not when Stiles tugs off his own plaid shirt and almost elbows Derek in the face as he pulls off the t-shirt underneath too. Derek can take it. His threshold for pain is pretty high, and anyways, Stiles is the least painful love of his life. 

(Stiles just might _be_ the love of his life, but Derek tries not to think about that. Stiles is young yet. Stiles may not be done playing the field yet.) 

Stiles is definitely not done playing with him yet at least. And Derek will take that. Derek will take whatever Stiles can give him for now. 

What Stiles gives him now is life and a lack of breath. Such is his contradiction. Stiles doesn't stop kissing and nibbling at Derek's mouth (like maybe _he's_ the werewolf in this relationship) as he grind-slides down Derek to land on his feet. Stiles' fingers are deft. They've had much practice twirling pencils and wielding bats (and having virgin sex - Stiles' words). They're the fucking death of Derek is what they are. 

They get the belts loose, the pants undone. They worm inside Derek's tight gray briefs like they belong there. (Derek would never disagree.) They burn Derek up. They pull forth a growl. _I-want. I-need._ Derek's blood sings. 

He picks Stiles up easily enough and pins him to the bed. "Okay?" He noses along Stiles' pulse points, sucking sweet skin, feeling the thrum of Stiles all worked up for him. 

"No." Stiles wraps his legs tight around Derek's thighs. "So much better than okay. Like if okay is an apple, this is curly fries." 

Knowing Stiles' extensive feelings about curly fries, Derek basks in the high praise it's intended as. His hands roam from soft hair - short now though no longer a buzz cut (but long enough to tug) - down to between them where Stiles is hard and already leaking. Derek gives it a firm stroke just to hear Stiles gasp. Then he moves, all lips. 

Lips along Stiles' collarbones. Lips over Stiles' pectorals. Lips over the happy, happy trail. Lips over the cotton of Stiles' white undies, made wet and wetter with flicks of Derek's tongue. 

"God, man, you're _killing_ me." Stiles groans. Then he stills a miniscule of a fraction. "I mean, in a totally non-violent way." 

Derek knows Stiles is thinking about the camera, is thinking about how they sound and will think about how they look any minute now, which won't do at all. So, he takes matter into his own hands (his own mouth) and swallows Stiles down. 

"God! _Ughn_." Stiles' head hits the bed and the smell of him - god, this wonderful mix of arousal and happiness and _Stiles_ \- blooms before Derek, and Derek could live here forever, he's pretty sure, just taking care of Stiles, loving him. 

He helps Stiles out of his last scrap of clothing and thumbs down his own briefs, letting them fall to his ankles. So maybe he's posing a bit. He wants to. He wants to let Stiles look his fill and he wants to let the rest of the world look at Stiles looking. It's a good look on Stiles. 

His boyfriend is something else. And nothing at all like what Derek thought he wanted for himself. Someone sweet and innocent with a little sass like Paige, he thought. And well, he did, he loved her. But he lost her. And Stiles is - Stiles is _all_ sass and a heavy dose of sarcastic and a little bit of an ass. But he's Derek's ass. 

"Come and get it," Stiles smirks at him, but the effect is ruined by the catch of his breath. 

God, Stiles is also a gigantic dork. Derek almost rolls his eyes but decides to take Stiles at his word instead. It's much more fun. 

He knee walks onto the bed and in one smooth motion flips Stiles over to lie on his stomach. He presses down a bit on Stiles' back, running his hands down over smooth skin to the dimples on Stiles' butts. There, he changes tactic and pinches Stiles' butt cheeks. 

Stiles yelps and flails under him. "Ahh, you asshole!" 

"What about your asshole?" Derek leans down and pries Stiles' cheeks apart to blow on it. 

Stiles makes a strangled sound, an _expectant_ sound. 

Derek obliges. He was surprised by how much he loves doing this for Stiles, almost as surprised as Stiles was at how much he loves Derek eating him out, opening him up with hands and mouth. 

Derek's good at this now. He knows just what Stiles likes. He gets a good grip on Stiles' ass and get him good and wet with slow, long skates of tongue until Stiles is a trembling, trembling mess. 

Stiles huffs, wordless as he scrambles for purchase in the slide of their sheets. He's flushed and warm and so fucking beautiful, and Derek just wants to keep him forever. 

He reaches out and holds onto Stiles' hands, linking their fingers, feeling the pulses next to his. His tongue never stops working Stiles over, burrowing in narrower and narrower circles until he's just fucking Stiles open with his mouth, his spit, his love. 

Stiles grips his hands and huff and puffs, which just serves to work Derek up even more. God, he loves hearing Stiles go breathless. It's like nothing else, that he could make Stiles feel so good that he forgets the rest of the world, just shuts it all out. 

"Gonna come." Stiles groans and squeezes his hands hard. 

Derek says 'come', which comes out as vibration along his tongue, which is still stuck on tonguing Stiles. 

Stiles grips harder and pants against the sheets, desperately rutting until his body goes tense, tense, tenser and he shudders, comes. 

"Ten-ten, would recommend," Stiles says into the mattress, still boneless underneath him. 

"No thanks." Derek turns Stiles over and licks and licks him to clean up. "Just want you." 

Stiles looks at him with eyelids at half-mast (dick about the same) and his mouth hangs open as if surprised. _Idiot_. 

"How do-" Stiles breaks off on a pant as Derek takes him in deeper in his mouth and works two fingers in easy as you please. 

Stiles presses the palms of his hands over his face, bringing some hair with them. When he lets go, his hair is wilder still, a complete wreck. Their brown disarray picks up the brown of his freckles like highlights. Again Derek thinks: beautiful. 

Stiles' dick twitches in his mouth. "God-how- _fuck_." Stiles babbles as he squeezes Derek's head with his thighs. 

Derek hides a smile between them. Yeah, this definitely rates _platters_ of curly fries. 

Then Stiles' hands are in his hair, pulling. " _Derek_." 

Derek waits for actual requests because his name isn't one. He licks at the veins of Stiles and marvels at the speed at which Stiles unspools for him. 

"In me," Stiles manages to bite out. 

Derek pops off, loud and obscene around a smirk. "That I can do." He lubes Stiles up nice and generously and lubes himself up quickly. He's already so close after all. 

He forgoes the condom after a nod from Stiles. They've both been tested clean and besides, they both love how it feels heartbeat to heartbeat, skin to skin. Besides _that_ , there's no one else, not for Stiles and definitely not for Derek. 

Sliding in Stiles is always intense. _Stiles_ is intense, all open mouth and hazy brown eyes. 

Derek rocks forward just a tad when he's seated, to tug at Stiles' hair. Stiles opens his mouth even wider, which _fuck_ , Derek's only human (and wolf) and he can't take this kind of porn (never mind that they're in one now). 

He sticks a thumb in Stiles' mouth, and Stiles' lips automatically close around it, sucking him down. Derek feels the suck all the way down to his dick, which is such an anatomic mystery. But honestly, he doesn't care how that works. He just wants Stiles, even when Stiles is driving him crazy. 

_Especially_ when Stiles is driving him crazy. 

"C'mon," Stiles says around his thumb and flicks defiant eyes up to his. "Faster, Der-" 

Derek doesn't wait for the end of the sentence and rocks his hips down and in, rough like Stiles like it. _Wanna feel you all day long_ , Stiles told him once. God, Stiles' _mouth_ , Stiles' _brain_ , Stiles' everything. 

Derek smears saliva over Stiles' lips as he pops out his thumb. The slick makes Stiles look dirtier, better, more his. Sometimes Derek thinks about painting Stiles in all white, really marking him from cheek to cheek. 

The thought has him grinding down harder, biting down on his lip. 

"Derek." Stiles looks up at him with a small frown between his eyebrows. "All right?" 

"So many," Derek grits out as he pulls out almost all the way and then drills in again. "Curly." He takes a breath and rolls his hips as Stiles' feet dig in hard against his back. "Fries," he finishes. 

Stiles breaks in laughter, his whole face a sheen of joy. It lights something in Derek's soul. Like a match, warming it. 

"I love you." He thrusts in and relishes in the way Stiles' legs spasm and the small rubs of his toes that mean they're curling up. 

Stiles comes, hands a vise around Derek's arms. Derek takes it as his cue and speeds up, rocking the bed, making it make that noise like it's groaning too. 

Then Derek's groaning and coming (and coming). 

Carefully, he pulls out and slings a leg over Stiles, holding him close. There's probably nothing better than this, nothing better than just lying next to the one he loves and breathing in sync with him. 

They might have dozed a bit. Derek's not sure. But he feels light fingers in his hair, half combing, half tugging. He looks up to see Stiles looking at him. 

Stiles flashes him a warm smile. "Hey." 

"Hey." 

"Guess what?" 

Derek looks up. _What_ , he asks with his eyebrows. 

Stiles shifts up off the bed a bit and drops a kiss on Derek's shoulder. "I love you, too." 

Derek ducks his head but it's probably too late to hide the smile that spreads across his lips and spills into his eyes. He clears his throat. "Yeah? You into porn stars?" 

Stiles laughs. "Now I am." 

"Good." Derek leans over and kisses him soft, kisses him sweet. "Me too." 

_My, my, mine_ , Derek's heart sings. 


End file.
